


Red Cells

by SunnyMae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Cyborg!Jack AU, Established Relationship, Gabriel-Centric, Gen, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Married Couple, More characters and tags to come, Not Really Character Death, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Unethical Medicine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyMae/pseuds/SunnyMae
Summary: On that fateful day, Widowmaker finds her target and it was never supposed to be Ana. Jack's death shakes up Overwatch and throws Gabriel in a search for vengeance. But while his list to kill grows longer, there's still more in store for his late husband than he could ever imagine.





	1. Stay Safe

"Be safe."  
  
"Are you worried, babe?" Gabriel teased. It was sweet that after all these years, Jack would be still worried about a simple espionage mission.  
  
"Don't be a dick, I'm always worried when there’s weapons of mass destruction involved." Jack frowned, and flicked Gabriel’s thigh where he leaned against his office desk. He flicked it again impatiently as a nonverbal demand for an apology.  
  
He rolled his eyes, "I'll be back before you can say, "Overwatch doesn't involve itself with illegal activities."”  
  
That earned him a laugh at least, and Jack now used his previously offensive hand to push Gabriel away. "Fine. Go make a liar out of me."  
  
This time Gabriel laughed, "I already made an honest man out of you so it's only fair." He grabbed the hand and kissed the glove hand that still shoved at his cheek affectionately.  
  
They had gotten married literally the week they got engaged. Jack proposed as soon as they found themselves back on US ground for the first time after years of fighting in the Omnic War. No ring but the chapel they stumbled on while wandering New York after their award ceremony was kind enough to provide platinum ones loosely in their sizes.  
  
The strike team plus Adawe had been dragged to their impromptu wedding. They video-phoned in their families, and despite how angry their parents were for this quick hitch, it was good enough. More than good enough. They had switched their rings out for Tungsten soon after, but over a decade out and neither felt the need for a redo.  
  
"You're already late, go, go!" Jack’s grinning but he’s right. Gabriel still paused to blow a kiss on his way out, and loved the way Jack snatched the imaginary thing from the air and tapped it against his mouth. They’d barely seen each other in the past month, so these few minutes they could were always so sweet.  
  
He was in the ship when he remembered Jack would be off on a mission by the time he returned. It was a rescue mission of scientists from Talon. As soon as they got into the airspace of the destination, most of his communication devices would be cut off so he shot off a quick, "Sorry I forgot, but GL on your own mission!!" as his crew began entering.  
  
Jack replied with an unprecedented amount of hearts.  
  
“You ready for the mission?” Gabe nearly closed out of his messenger on his eye piece but then Jesse came into view. He snapped a quick picture for the original strike team group chat.  
  
They would be playing a father and son duo, but to exaggerate the age difference, Jesse had to shave off his beard.  
  
“Are you lost? Do you need me to call your sitter?” he replied with a cheeky smirk, enjoying the chuckles from the rest of his surrounding team except for baby-faced Jesse himself.  
  
He blushed and pouted, and pointedly stomped away to the empty seats on the other side of the ship. “You had me get rid of it!”  
  
“I also told you to learn a different accent, but since I’m doomed as an American cowboy touring through the East with his equally suspicious son, you will suffer.” He’s been begging the kid to learn any other accent that wasn’t so obvious. McCree had been dragging his feet, desperately clinging to his brand. Well, he had learned one. But also, no.  
  
“Dude!” Jesse switched to an awful California surfer accent. “I like, know this one, dude. It’s not like my fault you can’t chill with it. Cowabunga!”  
  
“And sent. Ana’s going to love it.” Gabriel closed out of messenger again.  
  
" _Jefe_ , don't!"

 

  
The main restraint was time sensitivity. They were tipped off that this gang operating out of Guangzhou, China was hired to deliver an armed bomb for, unsurprisingly, Talon. The corrupt local government weren’t even informed of this threat, as Overwatch wanted this quiet. Anything Talon has been Overwatch’s unofficial enemy number one since the Lacroix incident, and the covert missions Blackwatch has ran is more than the raids made by its public counterpart. His team was to grab any information on the bomb and its delivery route undetected.  
  
His Blackwatch team were unprepared to blend in, and with no informants in the area, they would have to scout it themselves for the gang’s hideout. The gang probably had the airwaves tapped, as was the usual problem in areas with no substantial law enforcement to prevent these hackers’ access.  
  
The translator on their eyepieces were their only form of help. Their meticulously planned but erratic meet ups in random tourist destinations would be their only times of communication.  
  
It took three full days to find the place, considering only one of them knew conversational Chinese and the other five were left to wander. Jesse and he had, admittedly, a fun time eating cuisines and playing up the idiot tourists role.  
  
It wasn't as heavily manned as Gabriel originally thought, but there were enough armed guards to suggest this was a two-man job, relying more on stealth than brute force. The duo would have to travel light and quietly. Gabriel would be the one going in, as he was the most experienced in infiltration as well as hand to hand fighting. Liao would also come with, as he was the one who understood Chinese, though he would mainly be look out.  
  
From the windows, there appeared one room with only one guard regularly checking it. The downstairs was mainly a ballroom and dining area, so he doubted they were setting up the meat of their operation there.  
  
They break in at exactly four hundred hours when the guard’s path leads him furthest away from the room. They use a tiny emp to disable the security on the window and shimmy the lock open. Liao slipped in first, smaller than Gabriel’s enhanced figure.  
  
He gave a thumbs up and Gabriel followed in.The room was full of covered furniture. Like clockwork, the guard walked back two minutes later, but they’d already closed the window and hidden themselves.  
  
Liao headed for the door but his shoe hit a tumbled vase. The tap wasn’t echoing, but it was damning enough for them to hear the hurried steps of the guard. Liao took the precaution of hiding behind a grandfather clock, a taser in hand. Gabriel nodded to him in the dark and found solace in the curt nod back. All Gabriel had with him was a knife strapped to his leg, and he's not dumb enough to believe he can fight a man with an automatic gun like a Jason Bourne character.  
  
He tensed up, ready to take that fight regardless. It's completely silent as he held his breath, and the heavy steps of the guard were right outside of the door. It swung open.  
  
His right hand encircled his knife handle. The baker stand with several paint buckets he's hiding behind appeared light enough to tip over but with enough heft to hurt. It would however cause enough of a ruckus to call attention from the entire house.  
  
There's no more time to think. He can see the face of the guard, only the darkness hid his own. The gun wasn't raised high so maybe--  
  
There's suddenly shouting within the house. Gabriel couldn't understand it but the guard rolled his eyes and hustled away. He probably wasn't expecting much when he walked in. The dry rat droppings Gabriel saw on the floors was probably the reason he's used to false alarms.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“I’m not sure. Something crazy just happened and she’s trying to gather everyone in front of the television.” He peaked out of the open door and grinned. “We should not leave this gift horse unridden.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
They searched through the rooms, getting closer and closer to the room where everyone was gathered. The majority of the rooms were used for storage rather than business, and it’s obvious this gang is squatting.  
  
In the room dangerously near the commotion, they saw a desk and chairs, as well as mounted weapons for convenience. It screamed boss’s room. The computer was conspicuously up and running, and paranoia had him constantly glancing around as he copied the data onto his own hard drive. Liao kept his head poked out. The shouting tickled his curiosity but he planned to ask when they were safe.  
  
“We need to go.”  
  
Liao jerked around. He appeared...  
  
Scared. No, it was more shocked. But he nodded and signaled the all clear. Gabriel almost didn’t follow him out but Liao fought beside him during the Omnic Crisis. They were practically blood at this point.  
  
As he left, he heard the television below the chattering. He made out the word "Overwatch" but the rest was lost on him. The escape was thankfully uneventful. Liao however was still out of it.  
  
“What happened in there?” Gabriel asked softly, hesistantly and gently, like Liao was a spooked animal.  
  
He shook his head and refused to make eye contact. “Gabe, I don’t think I should tell you like this.”  
  
“If this is urgent, then it doesn’t matter how the you say it.”  
  
He was interrupted by the highbeams of their getaway vehicle.  
  
Jesse poked his head out. "Any trouble, y’all?"  
  
He gave Liao a once-over, and despite the slight tremble in his hands, Gabriel left it. He’d only seen his teammate like this during the Crisis. He trusted Liao to tell him what was wrong as soon as he felt safe to.  
  
He answered Jesse’s question in the meanwhile. "Everything went flawlessly because they were all too busy to notice us. I think something big happened in Overwatch."  
  
“Any idea?”  
  
“No. But we’ll find out if it concerns us.”  
  
"Alright then. Extraction in a minute. Get ready for the succ."  
  
"McCree." Gabriel said sternly. .  
  
"It's funny." Jesse said with a shrug. He can’t count how many times they’ve had this same conversation. Actually give him the number of instances he’s been teleported beside Jesse, and maybe he could. Liao stayed silent, despite often giving a snort at the old joke  
  
It was an accurate word despite the lecherous implications. The extraction had them teleported a short distance up into the hovering ship. Teleportation felt like air, space, and time funneling through a tunnel into the direction they would appear.  
  
The feeling was very similar to suction, but the mental image wasn’t worth it.  
  
They were in the ship five seconds later.  
  
"There's urgent news from Overwatch." The hologram was open and one of the Overwatch representatives stared solemnly at him. A quick look around and there was equal melancholy in the rest of his team who hadn’t remained on the ground.  
  
Jesse groaned exasperatedly, refusing to read the room. "We just got here. Give us two seconds-"  
  
Liao pushed in front of Jesse and stood sternly in front of Gabe. “Sit down.”  
  
Gabe blinked but he followed the command regardless. His teammate placed his hands on his shoulder like he was grounding him. They made eye contact for the first time since they extracted the computer’s data.  
  
“The news they were watching, it was about Jack.” His heart plummeted. Jack should be on his mission.  
  
“He was shot during his mission in Kurjikstan.”  
  
Someone exhaled harshly in the ship, even after already hearing it. Otherwise, it was silent. The earnesty from Liao’s black eyes and firm hands on his shoulders kept him in place as panic tumbled through the newly emptied space in his chest. There was a gentle roar in his mind, and it shouldn’t take this long to process this.  
  
"He’ dead?" Jesse sounded wrecked. He's visibly shaken, more so than the paralyzed stone face Gabriel must have had. He knew the answer before the hologram could. Sit down. Urgent news. Gabriel held his breath, or was he suffocating?  
  
“Yes. A sniper landed a direct headshot and there was nothing our doctors could do to save him. My condolences, Commander Reyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love making Gabe sad and implying the destruction of Jack's sense of self. i have about ummmm... 4 aus abt it. Anyways i have a lot of unfinished reaper76 shit in my folders but i keep overthinking everything so here's just a fast easy thing that might suck? might not! time will tell!! i'll try to update within a week, and hopefully it'll break me out of this weird writing rut.
> 
> Basic info:  
> \- that is the mission Ana was originally shot by Widowmaker  
> \- there isn't any friction between Jack and Gabriel or their organizations  
> \- their marriage isn't hidden and literally everyone knows  
> \- Jesse is 21, almost 22. Mercy is 22.  
> \- Fareeha bullies Jesse sometimes with the stuff Gabe sends Ana cuz she's a snarky lil 16 yo right now  
> \- no Genji yet  
> \- Blackwatch is like the NSA where everyone knows its there but Overwatch representatives respond with a constant ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> wanna chat abt it? my tumblr: sunnytilmae


	2. Move

Jack’s hand scratched at his shaved head as he tried to fall asleep belly down on the bed. It was a real, glorious full sized bed. They hadn’t even gone on a mission and the luxury Overwatch provided was promising.  
  
“What are you going to do after the war?” Jack asked. His voice was as gravelly as ever, and the deep rumble of it made him sleepier. It had been silent for a few minutes now outside of the hum of a hovership landing outside the window.  
  
“Sleep.”  
  
Jack waited before shifting to sit up. “Alright, yeah. That sounds good. After that?”  
  
“You’re too chatty.” He yawned and finally cracked an eye open. It was dark out. “What’s up?”  
  
“I don’t know. It’s just, everything’s different now. I joined up because I wanted to go to college, maybe even medical school. I can definitely afford it now, but I don’t know if I can handle that crap anymore.” Gabriel hummed in understanding. “I can’t go from this to writing essays about a book I probably didn’t read. I want to be in the middle of it.”  
  
“Okay, don’t go back to school.” Jack made a frustrated noise. Gabriel kept talking, his words slowing to almost a slur.  
  
“Listen to me, Jackie, for real, you need to calm down. Like my plan was literally to just stick with you, and look at us now. It's going great! And this bed? Goddamn.”  
  
Jack sounded hesitant but it was at least more complacent than frustrated. He even laid down completely so their heads were close enough to share a pillow. “Yeah, it’s a great bed.”

 

  
  
  
  
The flight back to the headquarters is quiet. Liao and Jesse sit beside him, their warmth slowly becomes overbearing instead of comforting. Jesse sees his eyes fill up with tears and his hand swiping against them, but neither sees him cry.  
  
As soon as Gabriel’s ship touches down, he demands to be taken to Jack’s body.  
  
People come to him with condolences, including Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and Ana.  
  
He tries to carefully push past them. He just wants to see the cold confirmation for himself. Maybe it would help him collect himself because right now, he doesn’t believe Liao or the representative, or the news outlets already creeping out of their hell holes to email him.  
  
“I need to go see him.” He says. Reinhardt and Torbjorn nod. They’ve undoubtedly paid their respects already, and he’s glad. He doesn’t want company for this.  
  
He heads towards the morgue, a site most of the active members of Overwatch are familiar with. Ana follows him however. She stalks him like a shadow, never sneaking past his periphery. They reach the morgue entrance when he spins around and snarls,  
  
“Ana, say something or leave.” He knows it’s harsh considering she also lost a good friend and comrade, but it doesn’t matter. Gabriel knows what will happen to the body after it’s processed. It’ll be given to Overwatch’s medical research department to study, so he’d like to say his goodbyes while he can still recognize Jack.  
  
"It was my fault." she finally says. She has the audacity to walk in front of the doors, back straight as if she was gracefully accepting punishment. He could pick her up and move her, but Gabriel knows Ana. Persistent, like Jack. Like Jack was.  
  
"Did you put a bullet in his head?" he finally asks after waiting for her to understand this mistake here stirred his blood more than a field slipup.  
  
"I disobeyed his orders.”  
  
“That’s a no, Ana. Move.”  
  
“He wouldn't have been out in the open if I had followed his orders." She closes her sharp eyes but only briefly. She needs something from him that he doesn’t have. Anger that doesn’t belong to her. A punishment so she could offset her guilt. "I managed to hit her so I became cocky and pursued her. She was directly in my sights, but when I realized it was Lacroix, I... I hesitated. She grappled off the building and made the shot."  
  
"Then Talon killed him."  
  
"I failed to guard him. I shouldn't have-"  
  
"Amari!" He sucks in a breath because he can feel the rage climbing up his throat. But even more prominent is the wave of indifference that accompanies it. Jack's dead and it's so consuming that her recount grays into nothing. "I can't deal with this. Accept it or don't, I don't fucking care! Move.”  
  
She finally takes a step to the left and lets Gabriel shove past her.  
  
The morgue worker recognizes him immediately but still requests his information. She leads him into the back room, apologizing for the temperature all the while.  
  
“Oh! She shouldn’t be in here.” She takes a step forward, embarrassed and ready to shoo Lena out.  
  
The shelf is already open and one of the recruits is sobbing beside it. He recognizes her as Lena Oxton easily, and not only by the lightning blue orb strapped to her chest. She usually had breakfast with Jack, Winston, and Torbjorn. She must have blinked in.  
  
He stops her before she can say anything with a gentle hand on her arm. “No, it’s fine.”  
  
“She doesn’t have clearance to be here, sir.”  
  
“Commander Morrison would’ve wanted her here. They were very close.”  
  
She looks dubious but nods anyway. “I’ll leave you then.”  
  
During this exchange Lena hadn’t noticed them. Gabriel wants to ask how awful slipstream truly was, and if it would be worth it. But as soon as the question comes to mind, he knows the answer.  
  
He didn’t need Jack of the past. He had him in every way he’d ever wanted. He needs him now, and if the only form Jack still exists is lifeless, Gabriel will take it. He walks to the table, trembling from both the cold temperature of the room and the sight before him. Jack is too pale and dull. The bullet hole is at the top right of his head on his hairline. He’s nude except for a white sheet that tucks him down.  
Lena flinches when he’s right beside her. She hastily drags her tears and snot through her sleeves and apologizes.  
  
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbles. “I should go, you probably want to be alone. Sorry for, uh, breaking in here.”  
  
“Thank you, Oxton.” Faced with his deceased husband, he suddenly doesn’t want to be alone yet. Gabriel can’t focus on him for too long, and instead takes to watching his blurry reflection in the corner of the body tray. Fortunately, she is reluctant to leave as well. Lena’s vainly trying to stifle her sobs but he knows how much she meant to Jack. It was similar to his own relationship with Jesse. “You don’t have to leave. You were his favorite recruit after all.”  
  
“Don’t say that.” He nearly regrets it but then she laughs wetly. “Is that why he taught me how to shoot?”  
  
Jack loved her fighting spirit. They both were undeterred in their morals, driven to a fault. As soon as she insisted to stay on the force after the Slipstream incident, Jack took her under his wing.  
  
“It shows in your scores. Jack was always proud of you, I hope you know that.”  
  
“I did, thanks.” She sniffles. Lena appraises him for a second before saying, “He would always talk about you, like you were the sweetest smartest guy. I think you meant everything to him, or at least that’s how he acted. I’m sorry for your loss.”  
  
Despite seeing Lena around, even in his own apartment when she was running errands for Jack, she was always blinking around. This is the stillest he’s ever seen her.  
  
She’s still staring at him. “I really should go. Do you want me to get you some tissues?” she asks shyly, moving towards the door.  
  
He’s crying he realizes, but he makes no move to hide it. “No, I’ll be okay. Thank you, Lena.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After a week, Jesse's enlisted by Gabriel to gather Jack's things. Jesse agreed easily to his boss's request. He's seen him, the now-widower, around the base. Gabriel was understandably quiet and barely spoke except for quick answers. Blackwatch and Overwatch missions had been paused, and the field operatives were on standby until further notice. Reinhardt currently oversaw the ongoing missions, but rumors hinted Gabriel Reyes to take command. Morrison's office had been cleaned out already.

 

“All that's left is the apartment." Gabriel tells him in the Overwatch cafeteria. "It’s so goddamn hard. I don’t want to move out, and I don’t want to get rid of him. I just need to feel like I’m not living with a ghost.”  
  
They plan to move slowly, starting in the kitchen and end in the master bedroom. There are three boxes. One for storage, the other for Jack’s mothers in Indiana, and the last to be donated to the museum. They had already gone through Jack’s office with most of his items, such as certificates and uniform, going to the museum. Within an hour of Gabriel’s sorting, Jesse suspects most of Jack’s personal effects would be heading back to the cornfields. He learns not to say anything when Gabe clutches at a belonging, because if he waits long enough Gabriel drops a story.  
  
He laughs when he sees the fridge. There’s a honey-do list with silly things like,  
[x] Fix door frame  
[x] Call Rein, he gets lonely  
[x] Buy baby shower gift for Astrid  
[ ] Teach Gabe what a laundry basket is  
[ ] Teach Jack what a basketball hoop is  
[ ] Teach Gabe what a bullseye is  
[x] File for divorce >:(  
  
Memos for appointments. He swipes the one for Jack’s dentist in two weeks and throws it away. There are multiple drawings from Fareeha from when she was a toddler. The recent scores of both Lena and Jesse from the shooting range are pinned under tacky airport magnets like children’s report cards.  
  
Jesse’s accuracy is near perfect, as usual, and a solid twenty points higher in comparison, but Jack still has Lena’s highlighted with pride.  
  
“It’s fifteen points up from last year.” Gabriel explains with a small smile.  
  
Most of the things found in the kitchen and living room illicit a smile. Jesse learns more about the life they had led, and it is as charming as it is now poignant. Today’s an experience he’s glad to be trusted with.  
  
There’s a trashy magazine in the kitchen island. It has paparazzi quality photo of Jack and Gabriel holding hands, and Ana's tired face cropped over it. The red bold headline: Ana Devastated! Overwatch's Gay Scandal!  
  
"We thought it was the funniest fucking thing so I bought like 20 copies and handed them out."  
  
In the living room, the entertainment center has an entire shelf dedicated to their wedding. Gabriel piles all but one photo and a card to put into the storage box. It’s the both of them in fit, black suits, their smiles magnetic and pointed at each other.  
  
The card is titled Thank you for attending my wedding but oddly, it’s signed by Gabriel's dad. "Reminded me of you. :)"  
  
"He's still bitter he wasn’t there in person." Gabriel chuckles.  
  
The bedroom is more solemn. The tucked bed makes it clear Gabriel hasn’t slept in it since the the incident. Gabriel works fast. The closet is emptied quickly, with most of Jack’s clothing outside of his professional wear and one nice suit going into the Indiana box. A few shirts are folded into a square and placed into the storage box.  
  
There’s a challenge coin in their nightstand. It’s from the Marine corp. with the words Semper fidelis on the back. Jesse suspects it’s Gabriel’s but also recalls the impressive collection they had packed up from Jack’s office. He asks Gabe who simply holds it for moments before nodding. “It’s mine. But put it in the museum box. Jack was the one between us who actually gave a shit about those.”  
  
There’s a musky green backpack under the bed. Gabriel nods when he asks to open it and he whistles when he realizes it’s a dated medical pack. It reminded him of his Deadlock days. It’s mostly empty except for some bandages and a wrapped kit on the side. He unfurls it to reveal a surgical kit with shiny scissors and knives. If he had to guess, this kit would date pre-2050s.  
  
Gabriel also looks over, impressed. “It’s crazy how much technology has changed. It’s a wonder we all didn’t die.” He shook his head. “Jack could suture a wound in the pitch black, arm broken. And that isn’t a hyperbole.”  
  
“Fuck, I can’t imagine. Why did Jack stop practicing?”  
  
“It’s not that he wanted to. Thanks to Doctor Ziegler, Overwatch’s combat medics no longer need a steady hand, so his talents were better off with a rifle. Don’t tell her I said this, but I think he regretted hiring her.”  
  
Jesse snickers and tucks everything back into place.  
  
“Museum box?”  
  
“Nope.” Gabriel grins at the pack, “It would look better under his certificates but screw them. That kit has literally saved my ass a dozen times over. I want it.”  
  
After they choose a nice spot for it back in the entertainment room, Gabriel spends the rest of the time telling Jesse about the crazy stunts Jack had to do to keep the original strike team alive. Listening to him brag, he sounded more like himself than he had in the past few days.  
  
When they’re done, the apartment is a bit bland but Gabriel appears relieved, the air now lighter. The storage box is hidden in the closet. The other two are taped up and read to be shipped. The dresser in the master bedroom showcases most of their married life from a few pictures to Jack’s wedding band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabe’s starting the healing process already! If everyone just chills and lets him mourn in peace, it goes pretty smoothly.
> 
> I didn't really like how directionless this chapter ended lol. But this is supposed to quick! Fun!! So here it is!!! Also do yall prefer past tense or present? I cant pick one. I feel like past tense reads better but present is easier to write.
> 
> Funfacts:  
> -currently, the medics in Overwatch carry around something similar to Jack’s biotic field and angela’s healing beam, neither exist canonically yet but mercy’ll figure it out eventually. It’s a big bulky, non rechargeable thing they wear like a backpack. They place it down, and it heals a small area but they can focus it with the attached wand.  
> -i hc that all the strike team has that one younger recruit they’re really close with. In this fic they go like: 76-Tracer. Reyes-McCree. Ana-Amelie.  
> -it’s not that Reinhardt doesnt have ppl to hang out with, he just really loves everyone in the strike team and misses constantly being together lol  
> -Jack and Gabe would fight about really dumb shit. Like get legit mad about how gabe would take his socks off anywhere or how jack never wants to go anywhere ever.  
> -Jack prefers everything not necessarily clean but in its place. Like as long as all the dishes are in the sink, then he doesn’t care if they’re dirty  
> -Jack was adopted by two moms in a chill farm commune. (his parents are millenials lmao) So even though its true that he’s an only child, he was raised beside other kids and adults.  
> -Gabriel’s was raised by his dad along with two younger step-sisters. He hasn’t heard from his birth mother in a long time but her loss!!! His stepmoms nice enough.  
> -Jack accidentally started collecting challenge coins. He just thought they’re really neat and so he’d keep the ones he’s got during his services displayed, and throughout the years, people saw them and kept gifting more.  
> -Gabriel had only kept 2 challenge coins, one from Overwatch and one from his time in USMC, the rest he would freely give to Jack. He decided to donate one more. :)
> 
>  
> 
> Also thanks for all the comments and kudos!!! I Would Die For You, jsyk!!!!!


	3. Marble Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's getting a tad bitter.

“Don’t make that fucking face.” Gabriel cuts him off mid sentence.

“What are you talking about?” Jack’s sitting at his desk across from him, eyes nearly slits at the interruption of the reprimand. He arms folded amicably in front of him, but it clashed with the tense spine.

“The Strike Commander face.” He waves his hand in a circle around the vicinity of Jack’s face. “Are you actually mad? I can’t tell when you look like that. Like you’re gonna tell me to fuck off but not before reminding me you’re proud of me.”

“I am--”

“No, you’re not.”

His hands clench into fists. “Gabe-”

“Fuck off.”

“ _Gabe-”_

 _“_ Fuck off.”

“Fuck you!” Jack pauses to compose himself, but still snarls, face slightly flushed. “Shut the hell up and listen to me, you stubborn dick. You had no right to kill her. You were under strict orders to bring her back alive and interrogate her. That’s all. But you! You lied on your reports, you knew McCree knew her, that he’d want her dead more than he wanted the locations for the other Deadlock hideouts, you enabled him, and--”

And Gabriel grins, all teeth, because this is a Jack he can argue with. Fiery, passionate Jack who didn’t look out for the hypothetical people, but for the people he fought alongside. He might not make the UN board happy, but he did make Gabriel swoon.

 

 

The busywork was almost welcome, therapeutic in its ability to keep his focus but not in how it raised his blood pressure. Gabriel’s organizing files in his office for Liao to take over temporarily. He would be going on leave for the next month. He planned to head back to the US to recuperate as well as help with the memorial arrangements. Apparently, two were in order. One for personal friends and family, and the second for the public.

He would start by flying to Arlington to meet with Jack’s family, arrange and attend the private “funeral” and the public memorial. He would then fly off to stay with his family in California for the bulk of his leave. In the end, he would visit his in-laws for a weekend and finally return to Gibraltar. The trip would stretch across the width of continental USA.

He could already feel a headache coming. A light tap on the door interrupted him.

“Come in,” he said automatically.

He expected McCree or Liao, but Gabriel hoped it was another agent carrying a sympathy meal. He appreciated them, especially the chicken casserole Jojo, the Blackwatch pilot, had given yesterday. It was delicious, even straight of the dish, on his couch, while sobbing to “Six Armed Killer,” a movie Jack had been excited to watch together. It was a shitty movie.

When he saw Gabrielle Adawe’s grim face, he scowled.

He hasn’t seen her since she announced Jack’s death during a televised press conference. Gabriel wasn’t bothered by the lack of condolence, but he knew she would be the one sent to ask The Question.

“No.”

“I am on official business.” she said authoritatively. He cocked his eyebrow and she sighed in reply. “You haven’t heard my pitch yet.”

“Adawe, let’s just make this fast and easy for both of us. I decline the Strike Commander role. I believe I am better suited as Blackwatch Commander.” He said, and it was the truth. Gabriel’s already made a home with his small and specialized team. Overwatch may need a new leader, but if he left permanently, there would be a new hole in Blackwatch.

“If this is about the circumstances that opened this position...” she trailed off. She always trails off. Gabrielle picked her words carefully, which was fitting for her position as the Secretary General.

He however did not wait.

“No, Adawe, it is not. Jack would have loved for me to take his position. I have overseen Overwatch operations with him because he held my opinion to such a high esteem. He always shared confidential information with me as if I had a right to it. If this title passed based on his assessment, he would have undoubtedly chosen me.”

His words were almost bored, but the underlying malice could be heard under it. “Regardless, I would prefer to keep my current job because this is not a position easily filled. So if that’s all you wanted to discuss, you should go. I’m busy.”

She stayed quiet for a moment. “I’m sincerely sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off so disregarding. I’ll inform the council of your choice.”

He let her sit in the silence once more before reaching under his desk.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked while propping up two glasses. He had a bottle of bourbon out as well, half gone from Jesse’s frequent visits. He had gotten it as a gift from a governor from one of the Southern US states.

“You shouldn’t have alcohol at your office.” she said as she finally sat down in the chair. Her square hands were already around the glass by the time he was pouring.

He shrugged, “I’m still mourning. To Jack.”

He paused to toast their glasses before tilting his glass and letting the liquid hit the carpet. To his surprise, she did the same. They took respectable swallows, reminding of him of the powerhouse who had originally recruited him.

“I’m surprised you waited so long to ask.”

“The council had to agree on someone. You’re not exactly everyone’s... favorite at the moment.”

He scoffed. The Blackwatch may be considered unsavory but they yielded results.

“And Jack was? Put Reinhardt in permanently. Clean record, great speeches, and he won’t say it, but I know his back is starting to bother him. Keep him off the field or else he’ll be retiring soon.”

She sighed. “Ana said the same thing.”

“I wasn’t first choice?”

“You are!” Her face flushed, doubly fast after realizing he was joking. “I meant the Reinhard situation. She mentioned it was good to see him off of missions for the same reason and I must agree. His body cam gives me a heart attack, I can’t imagine how he has lasted this long under that duress. He was highly considered, second to only you.”

“You should also ask Ana, you know. She’s smart and level-headed, with great leadership results from her time in the Egyptian military.”

Gabrielle seemed doubtful, which was understandable considering Ana had lost two in the last mission. The council is undoubtedly still deciding punishment for her. Regardless, her record for bringing home agents was unquestionable.

He hasn’t seen Ana since their meeting outside of the morgue and he dreads the inevitable moment at the memorial service. Would it be awkward like their previous stand off? Would he be asked to forgive her again? He valued their friendship

“I’ve read the last mission report. Ana only chased because she was at a tactical advantage. She’s as good of a choice as any of us.”

“I’ll bring her up.”

 

 

The flight back to the United States is longer than he’s used to, spoiled by Overwatch’s illegal tech. From Switzerland to Virginia, he sits quietly with a casket in the cargo, arms tightly crossed over each other. He’s in his Overwatch dress blues and mentally rehearing his receiving of the Morrison’s.

He will apologize to them, allow them to mourn alongside of him, and then lie to their tear streaked faces. He will gesture to the casket, even allow them to open it to see a mutilated but blonde cadaver, and tell them this was the new face of their son. Killed by an IED and not by an escaped sniper.

He does this. Almost breaks as one of them pushes into his arms and sobs. Unlike his undercover stings, there is no gun against his head or hostage two rooms away. He doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing.

Gabriel breathes easy when they finally part. He sees them again in less than twelve hours. They would be staying in the same hotel for the duration of the preparations. The hours between planning are are filled with silence, longing, and liquor. _This would be easier with--_ is a given. His phone never lights up except with his morning alarm. He aches for the work he had used as a distraction instead of reviewing the guest list or choosing pictures for the slideshow.

There is a moment of reprieve when the other Reyes members arrive. He picks up his family the terminal when they arrive. It’s his father, stepmother, sisters, and their families.

The extra security is able to keep paparazzi outside. For a moment, he feels like a young man visiting from service rather than the other way around. Seeing his family is as familiar as it is alien, and he feels hesitant in his interactions. It dissipates almost immediately when Carmen yells at him for never visiting. They coddle him from the bag checkout all the way back to their rooms.

  
  


 

He greets members of Overwatch as everyone finds their seats, though Ana is still tense and miserable. He nods to her and greets her politely, and she responds stiffly. Probably biting back an unwanted apology. Gabriel swoops Fareeha into a hug. She’s too old and too tall to be embraced so tightly, she’s lifted, but the wobble in her mouth convinces him she needs one.

“I’m gonna miss Uncle Jack,” she mumbles in his shirt, head tucked under his chin. He remembers meeting her as a toddler. She waddled with a stern face, but giggled when she noticed anyone watching. Jack and he fell in love the moment she said _salam!_  She fell in love the moment Gabe threw her in the air and Jack fretted as Ana rolled her eyes.

“You and me both, kid.” She pushes away from him and subtly swipes a thumb beneath her eyes. It doesn't smudge the thick charcoal lining them.

“Did-um. Can I ask you something?”  He nods warily. “Was it Mum’s fault? She’s been acting weird since-since Uncle Jack died and she won’t tell me why.”

The public statement was bare minimum, as well as only partially true. Just as he had told the Morrison's, Jack as well as another agent were killed by an IED during a hostage retrieval. He frowns. Fareeha is a bright kid, but Ana is a trained operative. She knows better than to act suspiciously.

“No, kiddo, we all mourn differently, and she’s-your mother’s stubborn. She might think it’s her fault but it’s not.”

He’s being honest. Fareeha must sense his sincerity because she nods and finds her way back beside her mother.

  
  


 

The private funeral service is limited to friends and family. Even though he reviewed the list, Gabriel expects empty chairs for names already in Arlington considering the bloodshed they've witnessed. Instead he sees the faces of veterans, as close to family as blood. He sees survivors Jack personally invested in now grown. He sees faces he doesn’t recognize of a life so far away yet still consisting of half of Jack’s complete life.

On the edge of his vision, beyond the wall of soldiers protecting their privacy, it becomes abundantly clear that the decade-so since their service in the Omnic Crisis was not forgotten. Within the human perimeter, it is clear the war is but a stepping stone in Jack's life.

They should have retired after, as soon as the last Omnium crumbled. They were owed the peaceful life, weren’t they? They fought for it. They _earned_ it.

But this was who they were. Neither Gabriel or Jack had thought twice about leading Overwatch as it transitioned away from militia to a peacekeeping organization. Their ideals brought them together and kept them till the end. It’s unrealistic, if not disrespectful to regret their decision to continue serving.

It’s a life sentence easier served with a hand in his own.

There’s a mammoth figure behind their ceremony. It’s the statue of his husband, recently transported from the Zurich headquarters. Jack’s salute to the sky’s unknown has wetness pooling in the corners of his eyes. Pride and joy he’s felt since the first unveiling is easy to distinguish, but something painful pools in his stomach.

Jack Morrison: the legend in white marble. He’s carved in his special blue coat and beloved rifle, and his plaque only adorned by the Overwatch emblem.

Fortunately, the creators are not around when he begins his eulogy.

"Jack hated that statue." He throws a casual thumb in its direction. Everyone chuckles, even those who couldn’t possibly have known. But Jack hated it, and would have definitely hated it here, standing taller than most of the other memorials in sight. It would have made his face redder than when they first revealed the statue. Made him more exasperated than anytime Gabe casted attention to its vain placement in the sight lines of Jack’s office windows.

A black tablet occupies the spot now. It’s not nearly as large as the statue’s pedestal . The tablet at its highest point is as tall as Gabriel, and it slopes downward so even a small child can read it. It’s engraved in white and gold, and Jack will never be able to see it from his window.

It’s almost ironic that that is on Overwatch ground while this statue would haunt Jack to his empty grave.

He doesn’t get so grim aloud.

Most of the eulogy consists of jokes because it’s easier. The heavier praise he plans to leave for his coworkers to tell in the public memorial. He tells the story of their first time speaking: in the rec room with a couple dozen others comparing aches. Gabriel’s were different except without the added superhuman endurance or strength. He thought his time was coming to an end with new symptoms appearing in the past two days, when Jack pulled him aside. With a solemn face, he told him he should get checked for kidney stones.

Jack was right. His body wasn’t absorbing the serum properly, so all the extra nutrition they put into the chow headed straight through and clumped into stones the size of golf balls.

Naturally, their first official date was on a park golf course in South Korea.

“It’s not a great story, I know. Nothin’ meet-cute about it. But as unremarkable as it was, I knew I met someone important. I was pissing blood and I still recognized it. Jack deserved his title before it existed.”

He’s vague until the end, unwilling to talk about Omnic Crisis longer than necessary. He ends his eulogy with a corny sentiment. Something about not morning for a man who lived like he fought. Like he’d better give it his all because anything less would be as good as a coffin.

Both of Jack's mothers, and a good friend from the army give a eulogy as well. He's glad he went first because he drops his focus.

And stares into the distance, hoping to see whatever the marble statue has found.

  
  
  


The lengthy eulogy Reinhardt gives at his memorial service is as beautiful as it is grandiose. It's got the gusto Jack deserves to be known for. He focuses on the war, unlike Gabriel, and waxes poetry about Jack up to the end of his commander days.

"Jack Morrison, your hands saved humanity and your words pushed it forward. And so as we chase forward, your spirit will always be beside us!” The crowd applauds, undoubtedly echoing into the streets and only shying down when Reinhardt turns to salute the statue. His grin glints on the sun shining directly overhead Jack’s head. “Heroes never die!"

The crowd is thunderous now, still cheering while he repeats the phrase in German. _Helden sterben nicht!_ It is the traditional Crusader’s goodbye and an honor to hear elsewhere.

Gabriel doesn’t speak at the memorial. He shakes hands and accepts condolences as the widower, but other than that, he watches strangers put flowers down in the growing leafy blanket surrounding the statue. Flowers are mostly white and red roses but, to his amusement, a small spot of blue petals composed of cornflowers forms.

He stares at the statue and to most, he must be a melancholy scene. A widower of one of the most powerful men alive. Gabriel can imagine the online articles already being written with his face on the front, sympathetic words haloing him in bold Arial letters.

He stares at the statue because God. It's awful. It always has been. The chin is too small and the eyes are too big, and constant five o'clock shadow isn't there. The statue is almost cartoonishly handsome, while Jack was strong jawed and mean-looking in most angles.

He was real not as a magical spirit of humanity or whatever Reinhardt said, but as the asshole who laughed at bad jokes and downed whiskey like a mission. Who cheated at poker with Athena plugged into his eyepiece, yet managed to lose most games. Who waited for Gabriel after mission until the sun went down and rose back up. He’s the man who news outlets spat on every alternating weekend, but, with a deep breath, continued to make public appearances smiling.

They love him today because they’ll remember a different man in his place. They’ll remember this marble commander instead, and Gabriel will pretend it’s Jack Morrison when their cameras turn to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *AUDIBLE WINK AFTER REINHARDT’S SPEECH*
> 
> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. It was originally drafted as the second half of chapter 2 so it felt weird drag out this mourning-Jack portion of the story out, and writing two services was daunting, and so i just kept putting it off!
> 
> But!!! Enough of this!!! NEXT CHAPTER, BE THERE. We're finally past phase one of the story!!!
> 
> Funfacts:  
> -I wrote a lot more of their eulogies, but it was mostly babbling about how cool and inspiring Jack was so it was cut  
> -Gabe really loves shitty horror movies and Jack’s not as big of a fan, but happy Gabe gives off such good energy that Jack probably thinks he also likes horror movies  
> -Ana and Fareeha’s relationship is not as strong as the one she has with her father. She looks up to her mom and they live on base with her, but Ana does prioritize her job over her family. Not to say that Ana doesn’t love her or that she's neglectful, she just has a really demanding job.


	4. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela didn’t know why she’s surprised to find a snake at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore has updated and kinda messed up my timeline. Some clarification:
> 
> Uprising occurred prior to this story (more my fault than lore updates in the past year lol)  
> Ana vs Widowmaker happens before Retribution and Genji

**A FEW WEEKS BEFORE MORRISON’S DEATH**

“Does that feel good?”

Ana smiled, “The grip, the scope, everything, it is very familiar.”

Angela wrote the note on the clipboard. She pressed the button again in front of her to turn on the intercom for the training room.  “I should hope so, Torbjorn had designed it specifically with you in mind. Try it out.”

Ana peered through the scope and shot a training bot three times. Her accuracy was worse than when Angela had observed her with her current rifle.

“The kickback and noise is barely there and I appreciate it. I’m getting old, you know. This will take some time to get used to but I will adjust for my own sake.” She shot the same bot until her magazine ran out but it stood stationary. Her shots were getting steadier with practice. “They don’t seem to do much damage however.”

She bit her lip, excited to reveal the surprise. She had been toying with this idea since her first month in Overwatch and she would finally see it in fruition.

“Try hitting the ally bot to the left.”

The target was tilted to the side, one of the arms limp and blackened from the turret shots they had prepped it with. Its health indicator blinked red.

Ana lit the bot up and they listened to the audible noise as the syringes drained into the bots. Any visible damage soon disappeared and the warning light turned green.

She whistled, “I must say that is impressive.”

“Danke. I thought with your positioning and skill, you would be able to support your team without falling into danger.”

The sniper agreed but to Angela’s dismay, tried shooting the enemy bots again. She seemed frustrated at the lack of effect.

“The gun does not cause harm.”

She tutted and set it on its harness. She turned to the window to meet her eye.

“Doctor Ziegler, I realize this is out of your comfort zone but if I’m going to be backing up my team, I need to be a sniper in the traditional sense.”

“But if you’re healing them then you can leave the damage to them. You will not need to divide your attention.” Ana looked more unimpressed so Angela quickly added, “See, the pain will not be permanent.”

Ana stared at her. But her stare was not harsh, more older and parental.

“Dear, you are too green. We suffer out there, we feel these phantom aches even after the wound is closed. Some of us may enter the warzone excited but all of us sacrifice bits of ourselves to leave it alive. I have spent my entire career minimizing this by removing threats. Because if pain is temporary, suffering is not. Death is not. I cannot idly sit by on a rooftop waiting for my team to be injured.”

“I do not think I can design a weapon. It’s against the Hippocratic Oath I swore.”

Ana nodded consideringly at that. They’re quiet for a second.

“Do you think what I do is inhumane?”

And Angela does not know how to reply. An overdue question she had never answered directly. Not face to face with a veteran, in a personal space though divided by the glass. It was easy to answer when an injured soldier asked her, because then she answered no. Of course not, but don’t worry anymore, Dr. Ziegler is here to heal you now.

She easily justified violence when she was pulling bullets out of a person, when she only dealt with the end result and there seemed to be only one option. But if they can choose pacifism? This was why she joined Overwatch.

Ana snorted.

“You cannot value your enemies over your allies. There is no victory in neutrality, not anymore. I chose my side, easily because this is not about nationalism or religion. We fight a war against fascism, terrorism, and there is no gray area here. You do what you must for those you love.”

Her jaw clenched. She had to take a moment to collect herself and banish the vulnerability under the knowing eyes of Ana. She felt like she’s being lectured but she wouldn’t be the doctor she was if she couldn’t understand compromise. So instead of arguing, she nodded.

“Give me a month and I will see what Torbjorn and I can do.”

\-----

**A WEEK AFTER MORRISON’S DEATH**

"Ziegler, you are a valued scientist which is why you are also assigned to the project, but this isn’t an ordinary specimen. His body requires thorough examination. We have a highly skilled geneticist we believe would be up to task."

She huffed, knowing exactly the "skilled" geneticist they were referring to. The man she spoke to was trying to cram in his last bits of sandwich, obviously wishing to be alone during his lunch.

Tough. As one of the chairmen to the medical board that had earlier delivered the results of their secret meetings, he had to deal with her.

"Then let her have samples. However I believe I would be better fit to study it. Alone.” She tapped her manicured nail hard into the table.

”Don’t be ridiculous. All the SEP data was destroyed during the war and this is our only opportunity to retrieve it. We will not waste it on your silly rivalry with Doctor O’deorain.”

It was no secret that she hated Moira, often verbally and about her experiments, and occasionally her as a person. Maybe if Moira stopped being smug and stopped drinking all the coffee and _believed in the value of life_ , Angela wouldn’t genuinely hate her.

“Do not trivialize my disdain for that woman. It’s about morals, and agendas, and-and ethics. My research has saved thousands, if not millions, while she plans to expand the UN’s list of crimes against humanity.” She knew she overstepped but the words kept pouring out.

“Enough! Ziegler, you will either work alongside Doctor O’deorein or you will be excluded all together, understood?” He was wiping off his hands and standing up, huffy during the execution. As dignified as he acted, the tray he hadn’t picked up meant he was planning to flee the scene immediately.

But as soon as he leaves, she wouldn’t be able to see him again for another week. He’d be off in Ukraine for Overwatch business. She moved in front of him and held her hands up. She spoke lower, almost a whisper.

“What if I could promise you I could improve on him more than you could gain from studying him.” He stood still, wary but neither motioning her to go on or discouraging her. “I’ve been working on something in my spare time. I think I may be able to bring him back.”

Theoretically, she could revive a person, an idea she’s been obsessed with since…the Omnic War. Since her home burned down and she had been ripped away from her parents charring bodies. The logic has changed since her childhood to become theoretically sound, but she never fully figured it out. She cannot create life, instead she must substitute it, thus inspiring her nanobots. They healed injuries by inserting themselves into dead cells, copying its form through absorption, and learning its skills, going as far as reproducing natural cells.

Resurrection would require the nanobots to consume all of the material, completely replace the dead cells, and flawlessly duplicate them. So far, this has not worked on any specimen. The specialised cells were too difficult to replace.

So it’s partial bullshit, but she was optimistic.

“That’s amazing--”

She cuts him off, “But only under my conditions. No Moira.”

He stood there shocked, and she saw the wheels turning in his head. She was confident this was her ace in her sleeve. But instead of hypnotized agreeance, he became visibly appalled. He pushed close to her, causing her to stumble back from the sudden movement.

“Are you saying that you have the technology to bring a man back to life, but you will only use it as leverage against your funders?” He was furious, cheeks reddening.

“No, but-”

“I understand you are young but this is completely unprofessional. Threatening us because you have to share? We hired you _in spite_ of your age yet you are acting like a child. This behavior will not be tolerated and if it continues I think O’deorian could make due on her own.” She stood there, shocked and embarrassed. The few people also on their lunchbreak cafeteria were now staring at them, particularly at her being chastised. “Understood?”

“Ja.”

As soon as he turned, she fled back to her quarters. Her eyes welled with tears, which was ridiculous. This was not the first time she had been rejected, had been underestimated because of her age.

Maybe if her partner were any other person, but he was at the defense of Moira. Moira who held squealing rabbits and laughed as they kicked at her, who refused to treat patients unless they were under dire situations, whose experience as a field medic had high success rates in missions but also a suspicious amount of losses. She never contributed a single new development throughout her history in Overwatch, only following eagerly in Angela’s shadow.

She is an innovator, the medical board said, as if she did anything more than take her own discoveries and twist them into something vile. Her healing packs were now scheduled for an update, allowing them to enhance damage while sacrificing their original purpose.

She doubted Moira was even an actual doctor from her poor behavior during her rounds at the base’s hospital.

Moira was a monster and if she were any lesser person, she would rather prove it than work on the project.

\-----

**TWO DAYS LATER**

The time was 3am. Most of Zurich was asleep.

She swiped the keycard and for a second, she expected the doors to stay closed. Instead they unlocked, a puff of air hit her as she entered the first hallway. She didn’t pause for the sanitation process. The blast of air freed her of debris and the bright neon lights fried the bacteria on her coat.

By the time she reached the final set of sliding doors, she was cleaned down with a new set of gloves and a mask

They opened and she saw it. Him. He’s strapped down on a metal slab with lights illuminating him like a museum display.

His skin was pale but not gray. She’s mostly amazed by his limbs. There wasn’t a hint of deterioration even around the bullet hole. He could be sleeping, like soldiers she had nursed to health after being found in snow.

A pen clicked behind her and she whipped her head around.

“Look who finally visited.”  

Angela didn’t know why she’s surprised to find a snake at night.

“Dr. O’deorian. How is your research going?” She feigned nonchalance even as her palms sweat. She thought no one would be down here at this time.

“Well enough.” The tall woman walked closer and smiled when Angela recoiled. “Oh they were right, you really hate this.” The idea of people whispering about her and not about O’deorian made her shutter. She slinked past her and towards the display.

She picked up a scalpel and easily cut into the left bicep. Angela gasped from the lack of finesse.

“If you’re doing this to anger me--”

Moira wagged her finger, “Uh uh uh. Play nice or else you won’t get your turn.”

“This isn’t a game!"

“No? But look at how fun this is.” She carved a dime of skin off and caught it between her bare fingers. Angela’s apprehension quickly morphed to amazement as the wound bled. It’s over two days since postmortem and it bled. The blood drips slow, but much more fluid than a corpse ought to ooze.

She approached the body, ignoring Moira who continued smiling at her and didn’t bother moving out of the way. She touched the blood expecting warmth beneath her glove but it felt as cold as the room. It stopped bleeding within seconds under her touch.

“He is the most interesting man I’ve ever seen under a microscope.” The flesh knit itself back together. Is it still alive? “Angela, we have our differences but this is not an experience to skip.”

She has to agree. This was her chance, she realized. He was Sleeping Beauty and she would awaken him.

\-----

**TWO WEEKS AFTER MORRISON’S DEATH**

Some nights she knew she was too close to him to be objective in her methods. There was a difference between interacting with a body and the person. But when she saw him finally go gray, as all corpses do though much quicker, it made her scramble for a thermostat, praying to keep some visible liveliness.

Before, she could still see the man moving like a storm in the hallways. His coat would flow behind him like a cape, always swarmed by people trying to talk to him. He charmed them with ease, switching between every person as a skilled dignitarian.

But her time with the corpse led to strange discoveries. His cells were extraordinary, struggling to exist without instruction or oxygen, yet existing all the same. Their longevity and efficiency was similar to nanobot except moreso, and for a time being she assumed they were. But they were organic.

SEP created soldiers to last the war of all war. The pressure their bodies must have endured so only two survived the program had created a diamond. She should have observed Morrison and Reyes more carefully when she healed them. Her nanobots did not temporarily replace Morrison’s cells, they supported them as the cells healed themselves.

She wanted to shove Reyes under a machine but both Morrison and he were explicit in their refusal to be experimented on while still alive. It was written in their contracts, and even if it wasn’t, she doubted anyone could force Reyes into it.

Angela needed to upgrade her nanobots if she wanted to move forward with her plans. Morrison’s body was rotting and at its current state, could not heal itself fast enough even with her aid.

These cells would be the key to creating stronger nanobots. Then she could move on to actually reviving the man.

More worryingly, she realized Moira will utilize this information.

In her short time of working in short quarters with the other scientist, Angela noticed a lack of data analysis on her part. She acted more interested in toying with knives or playing with theories.

Being forced to share data, she also became privy of Moira’s take on nanobots. They were more aggressive than hers, killing off injured or undesired cells and generally more autonomous than her own. It would force the body to conform to a set standard instead of blending in, essentially changing the genetic coding.

“You were thinking too small. Why just heal them when you can make them better?"

“If you actually had a doctorate in genetics, you would have learned the controversies of eugenics.”

“Our very own super soldiers are the result of genetic modification. They’re magnificent.”

“The SEP had a 98 percent fatality rate.”

“And yet the remaining two won an impossible war. The experiments were successes.”

“We are not at war anymore.”

And Moira only grinned her toothy grin. It scared Angela as it promised something she was not willing to know.

She could not let Moira study this body any longer. A week had passed since the start of their project and already, in her blueprints, she saw mark ups for improvements.

\------

**DAY OF THE FUNERAL**

In the lab, she moved towards the future, but above ground, she fell at a standstill alongside the rest of Overwatch. The cleaning crew came through and removed Morrison’s items. The small plaque replacing the statue was lovely, almost making her weep with its quiet deference.

Angela flew to the United States to attend the procession. The statue towered over her again, as grand and beautiful just as she remembered the Strike Commander in his prime. She left red roses by his feet.

She listened to Reinhardt's grand speech with the last line almost inaudible through the crowd. But she heard it.

_“Helden sterben nicht!”_

She repeated it under her breath.

\-----

**FIVE DAYS AFTER THE FUNERAL**

Angela had a plan, the type of plan one might expect from a twenty-two year old, but she was still high off the funeral processions. Moira was still out for the day, covering Angela’s shifts in the hospital.

She nodded at the security desk before the lab doors, pushing a covered freezer on a hovercart. Her heart stopped when the guard perked up. _She’s going to ask me what I'm doing back already, and then to uncover the cart. and I am done for. I’ll be caught redhanded, I’ll be fired, and Moira will have the body to herself and Morrison will be dead forever--_

“Need help with that?”

“Oh!” She laughed too loud to be normal, “Do not worry about me, it’s just tools here. They are much lighter than they appear, I will be fine.”

“I don’t mind--”

“No! I mean, I have a very specific way of organizing my tools. And you’re not allowed in there, ja? Authorized personnel and all of that, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

That last part was true at least.

The security guard seemed dubious but to Angela’s luck, did not push the issue. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see you around, Doctor Ziegler.”

“You too, have a peaceful night.” She tightly smiled and nearly ran to the labs. Her keycard swiped and she walked forward even as they were opening, causing the corner of the fridge to hit the sliding doors and make a loud clang.

“Are you--”

Angela got into the hallway and pressed the manual shut button before she could finish her sentence. She hoped the guard wouldn’t question the incident on her way out. When she reached the other end of the hallway which should automatically open, the thick metal separating her from Morrison remained shut.

“Athena? Is there a problem?” She called out.

The AI did not respond.

She tried swiping her card again against the access control but it didn’t respond. Instead it remained dark, unreactive as if it were off. She was caught, wasn’t she? Her stomach clenched as the thought of that security guard rushing in with backup, detaining her for her suspicious behavior.

“Shit!” She hit the closed doors.

“Unprofessional, as usual.” Angela jumped back as Moira’s face appeared on the access control.

“What is happening?”

“This is a trap, Angela. I thought you would recognize it,” Her tone was patronizing, like a disappointed mother.

“This is insane, I will report you not only for this ruse but for hacking official Overwatch tech!”

“Why don’t you do that right now?” Moira laughed, “Also while you’re at it, you can explain why you’re back from your little vacation so early. Let them search your cart too. What is that? A fridge? Oh, Angela, I expected better from you. This plan is just… juvenile.”

“There is no plan,” she denied. Her cheeks grew hot.

“You weren’t going to try sneaking the body out in that freezer? But I bet that’s as far as you’ve planned. I would have returned to the lab, realized it was missing, alerted security and our guards, and all of our cameras would show your clumsy theft. I wonder, how were you going to escape?”

She did not reply, could not reply. She had no answer prepared.

“Did you think you could have left a military base with precious Overwatch property unnoticed? Where were you hoping to hide as the world’s most powerful organization hunted for you?”

She began searching the room for an escape. This was a trap, she already knew. Moira was ten steps ahead of her and had her in a corner, or rather, a locked room.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her mind weighed heavy with anxiety and dizzy with panic. Either Moira was monologuing until the guards came rushing in or she had a reason to be thinking so far ahead.

“I want Gabriel Reyes’ medical records. I would have them by now but they chose that damn _sniper_ over an actual doctor as the Blackwatch field medic.” Her happy facade slipped with the snarl, and remained angry through the call.

“Why do you need his files?”

“Why do you need the body?” she shot back.

The answer caused her to pause because her own question is valid. She needed the body and it was little secret to Moira why. But access to a secret agent, no less a commander's file was genuine cause for concern.

She spoke slowly, “Because you are untrustworthy and this only convinces me more that I'm right.”

“Give me access to the files or I will call security.” Moira said.

It was the arrogance, the audacity that pushed Angela forward, being spoke to as if she were the criminal in this conversation. She shoved the cart aside and slammed her hand next to the screen. She leaned in close enough to see her own reflection in Moira’s eyes, close enough to see the surprise.

“Then you will have to call security. This was what you were after the whole time, it is clear to me now. You wanted to have both of them under your control but I will never let that happen while I still breathe. When I am arrested and interrogated, I will tell them about this exchange. They might not believe all of it but they will remember enough. And every single move you make towards Commander Reyes will become a strike against you, because they’ll remember me, a true miracle doctor.”

The anger on Moira’s face grew until every sharp feature darkened against the stark pale skin. All her worries when faced with the woman’s past smiles were overshadowed by how demonic she became in that moment. Her lips stretched back, her eyes into slits with beady pupils. But Angela forged on, breath hot as she finally saw what Moira was.

“You will be left working with a corpse, never able to find its true potential because you are a sham. I have always doubted your credentials but now I know. You do not work on live experiments because you prefer it, it is because you only know enough biology to pass as a doctor. Any data you find on Morrison is useless to you unless you have an actual scientist to steal notes from. Any theories you have will never make it past an experimentation phase, because you have no idea what you are doing. Your whole show ends when you call security.”

Her face fell into an empty expression. Angela refused to look away, forced herself to not even blink. She was not green, nor some brat who squirreled her way into Overwatch. She deserved every accolade under her name. She was born into war, she was a practicing doctor at eighteen, and she was the only professional on this call.

“I will cut you a deal.”

Angela laughed, amazed by the audacity once more. This time it only delighted her.

“No. I will tell you what happens from here forward. I will call security myself and I will have your credentials verified. If they refuse to act, I have a direct line to Commander Reyes and I know he will be very interested in what has transpired. Actually, I will call him first, since Blackwatch will be much more thorough than any assessment our medical board had already done to vet you.”

Moira’s expression did not change. Those impish eyes looked away and the screen went black.

The next day, Moira O’deorain vanished from the base. All of her research went missing, any backups as well as personal data were corrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH? My life got very very busy since last August so uhhh here’s johnny.
> 
> The ending was actually a complete twist than what I was planning. I was thinking of doing a whole “oh ho ho jack’s death changed nothing because everything was inevitable” but that sucked and it was boring.
> 
> Story notes:
> 
> -The whole “moira isnt an actual doctor” thing was supposed to be a joke cuz i thought itd be funny for angela to constantly be like, not dr like dr ziegler, but like dr phil  
> -Moira is a completely self taught healer and geneticist so she picks up on things very easily and before overwatch, scrambled together a lot of tech that geneticists use, but it’s hard to compete with the practice’s top standards. She stole a lot of Mercy’s notes because she couldnt make sense of nanobots
> 
> yet


	5. Honest

The hotel blinds are closed. 

The sounds of drunks stumbling home on the streets are below him. His family minds his need to be alone, so he locks the door and lays himself over the made bed. It’s big and empty, and he’s exhausted.

It’s odd to retire to his room, nose still stinging from the beer he had snorted out when Torbjorn recalled Jack fake wrestling his kids one Christmas. Instead of melodramatically falling to his defeat, he had struggled to lose with grace as a raid of Lindholms fought with all their strength.

It had been odd to be surrounded by people he loves, encapsulated by their warmth near a block away from his husband’s grave site. They shared stories, and he had been swept away by the outpouring of love Jack shared with others. There was an underlying patience when he was silent for most of the regaling.

And now he's back in his hotel. He feels tired but not in satisfying way a night with old friends should feel.

He feels empty.

He remembers Jacks laugh and his smile and the way he would have tucked into Gabe if he had found him prone in bed.

His weight, unexpected even for his build, would anchor into him. Gabe’s hand would have found Jack’s waist, the only delicate thing about him, and the other hand tucks between his shoulder blades. The memory feels firm on his liquor-flushed skin, and he enjoys the firm kiss behind his ears.

He’s so fucking lonely. Everyone in the world he cares about is in his vicinity, waiting to comfort him. And yet he pushes himself alone. What the hell is wrong with him.

There’s a knock on the door.

He considers ignoring it but it’s a soft three knocks. So soft, like cat's feet pattering on a stranger's floor. Unsure but still pushing forward, bravery in the shadows. He’s definitely thinking too hard about it, putting words in thuds that could mean anything. But there's a chance that beyond the door is someone who feels the loss more than the celebration.

So Gabriel answers it.

He gets a short woman with red eyes and strands falling out of a once tight french braid. He hasn’t seen her all night.

“Ana,” he murmurs. It’s loud, stark in the hotel room..

“Gabriel, I know you don’t want to see me right now.” She’s a mess. Her mascara is ruined but more so are her black gloves that reach into her conservative dress. There’s smudges of foundation and lipstick on them from where she had scrubbed them against her face. 

“I missed you at the bar.” It’s not a lie. 

She had been off crying while he tried to keep face, and he balks at his own envy. He couldn’t bring himself to shed a tear during the procession or afterwards. Hollow.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I had her in my scope one second--” she chokes up and stops to compose herself. “His blood is on my hands.”

Gabriel knows the feeling. Has been in her shoes where he made the wrong call and got the worse answer. But for once, he’s not the soldier. He wasn’t in the battle. He was on the other side receiving the folded flag, miles away assuming his husband would come home safe like Jack had every time before.

“Don’t ask me to comfort you right now, Ana, not tonight.” He says it when she stares at him, eyes glassy like he has answers for her.

“You deserve the truth from me. You-- I failed everyone but especially Overwatch and you. I can’t apologize for what I did, it will never be enough. You should be angry at me.”

“Did you really come here, on the day of my husband’s funeral to ask me to hate you? To tell you what a dumbass you were on that mission?” She crowds closer into the hotel and he turns to let her in. The door closes and locks itself.

“Fine, fuck you. I am angry.” He’s not. He’s drained, broken open and tilted on a wrong side. He stalks to the window at the end of the room, putting space between Ana and himself, though she follows him deeper. ”I’m angry Jack’s dead and I won’t get to see him again. I’m angry you didn’t land that second shot. That you ditched your headcomm like you think you’re some big hero. You’ve been pulling this since the Omnic War, and maybe if I hadn’t been so lenient--.”

Every step, she copies timidly and he feels his lungs tighten. As he talks, borderline yelling, it’s like he’s pulling words from a script he prepared during one of his many sleepless nights. The energy is an echo of what he knows he should feel, but this is the scene he has already committed to. He spins around to face her, and more desperate than angry.

“Do you think this is cathartic? I lost him, we both lost him. Fuck you, Ana, do you feel better? Because I don’t.”

He has nothing left to give. Jack was the giver of the two, he gave like he had too much while Gabe gave like he was made of rations. It's why they were good together. 

But Ana looks worse than when she entered. Jack would offer a hand, a shoulder, and the heart attached to it all. So Gabe inhales.

“If you want to help yourself sleep better at night, do something about it. For Jack, and every other goddamn person we've lost. That’s what’ll make me feel better. Nothing else.”

“I will make things right.” She says it too quickly, snaps at the words like he's finally given her the right answer. 

That day, Ana was ready to die for the ally she lost. She chased Widowmaker for a man she barely knew, only knew he was under her protection. Hell, he's seen her go after bastions by herself for the nameless damned. Perhaps the Crisis made her believe she'll always get the shot. Her hero plays always worked, so why not now.

”By yourself? Join Blackwatch. If we're going to take down Talon, I’ll need the world’s best sniper to watch my back."

There's a fire in her eyes, different from before. Tamed but still eager to burn.

"I'll bring you home safe."

 

 

It has been a couple of weeks since the funeral. He checks his phone for the umpteenth time and at this point, he’s certain McCree has him on Do Not Disturb considering how often he’s had the kid update him on the base. Liao refuses to answer a single message, only emailing him debriefs.

He digs his bare feet deeper into the sand and sighs. Sun beats down on his back, and his sunglasses disguise his eyes as they point downwards to the shards of shells gathering at his feet, gifts from his nephews. In the distance, he hears his sister’s dog yapping at tourists.

He's the tourist now, he realizes. He knows horizon because he's been here before, spent his senior year gallivanting with friends, ignoring the signs pleading residents to leave at dark. But everything else? The people, the skyline, and even the coast itself are too different to feel that confident familiarity. It's just a beach with sentimental value that fades with every decade he spends away from it.

He still aches for it, especially now that he's here.

It was the phantom he missed during his years away. Not the ocean necessarily, since he was often posted up in Gibraltar with the sea bashing unrelentingly at the base’s feet with the force of an artist’s symbolism. 

During his spare moments, he would lay his head on Jack’s lap and force him to read poetry because he missed LA's beaches from his childhood and nothing about Gibraltar reminded him of its coast. Instead the rough but gentle rasp drew him back to nights on a dark beach. The waves lapping heavily on the sand, but somehow it’s still so quiet.

“Give me with some Whitman.” He remembers demanding one day. Their uniforms were off being cleaned elsewhere, his face partially buried into Jack’s henley. They were in their home. He doesn't remember the unimportant details, like the messes or their injuries or the year.

“Anymore of that guy and I’ll have him memorized cover to cover.”

“That’d be pretty hot.” Jack had made a face, like he should roll his eyes but he was amused nonetheless. “I’m serious. Poetry is awesome because it becomes a part of you the more you say it. You don’t even like poetry but you indulge me.”

He was a sap, but Jack hadn’t minded. Instead his unoccupied hand squeezed Gabe’s where it curled over Jack’s sternum. His other hand held the tablet where he looked through a library of his spouse's favorite pieces. 

“It's growing on me,” he shrugged. 

“If you loved me, you’d memorize one.” There was movement but Gabe barely felt it since he turned his head so he was speaking into his husband’s stomach. He had noticed the weight of tablet set down on him, its corner dug into his side. 

The challenge had been accepted. A finger traced his ear and trailed down to his chin. He began speaking, and Gabriel was impressed by the lack of stumbling.

He usually read a touch too showy for Gabe’s taste but the recitation was near perfect. Confident but not arrogant, sweet but not saccharine. Like he meant it, believed it, and knew it for Gabriel alone. “Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all, Watching, silently weeps....”

And he paused. He gave him a moment before realizing this was probably the end of what a supersoldier could recall on the fly. Gabriel cracked an eye open and saw Jack staring down at him. 

“Not so suave without the book?”

Jack grinned, cocksure and cute. “We were together, I forget the rest.”

It surprised a laugh out of Gabriel, a giggle actually but he would never admit it. It’s not even the correct quote, bungled through time to become something young and charming, but the sentiment rings strong.

“Every doubt I’ve ever had about your game is gone, it’s dead. You’ve romanced me to fullest, you asshole."

A conch shell is dropped to his feet and the memory is gone with the tide.

“Look at this guy!” his nephew Raphael hollers. It’s fresh, still pink on the inside. Even Gabriel is impressed, often assuming everything had died underwater during the years of international wars. It’s almost completely intact and has a solid weight to it.

“This is pretty cool, kiddo. You sure nothing’s in it?”

The kid shakes his head, head of hair flicking water onto him. “No, I checked! Wait here, I’ll bring you a sand dollar, those look really dead but they’re not.” He runs off into the water, glances back as if Gabe has moved a single inch in the past hour. 

Raphael doesn’t remember Jack. He was barely three the last time they met so it’s unsurprising. Days like these are easier with Raphael. He only think of Gabe as this badass uncle, demanding his attention because he's a child and not because he thinks Gabe's two steps from snapping.

His phone dings. It’s not Jesse, but instead a reminder from his airline for his upcoming flight.

 

 

Gabriel spends his first day in Zurich with everyone welcoming him back, and it’s like another family reunion. The guards grin and pat his back, the cafeteria workers offer his favorite wings. His Blackwatch officers flank him on his unofficial return to his office. He’d be taking over again on the third day, after he’s settled in and caught up.

Liao smiles during their meeting. “No hard feelings?”

“You ignored me.”

“I wanted you to take an actual break. It’s not like anything happened while you were gone.” He pauses. “Well there was an issue with one of Overwatch’s scientists trying to steal your medical files but it wasn’t a big deal.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow. 

“It wasn’t, I swear! She tried, failed, and now she’s history. Moira O’deorain, scientist in the medical research dep.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Exactly.”

It happens enough given the size of the organization. Gabe finally relaxes into his seat, his hand unclench in front of him. Liao’s right, nothing has happened in during his break.

The following meeting proves it further, most of Overwatch and by extension Blackwatch’s external activity had slowed to a halt. Ongoing jobs by Blackwatch were none combative, only spying on various international groups.

By the end, they’re more or less gossiping about the agents. Liao taps a ditty on his, Gabe’s desk while laughing.

“I’m not going to miss hearing my name every ten seconds. They act like children.”

“If you give them an inch, they’ll take you for the full mile.”

 

 

Gabriel is back in his uniform, basically a hoodie with Blackwatch’s logo. He had gotten flack from Jack, and well, everyone about it. But despite looking like the head of the IT department, he enjoyed the casualness it granted him. He sneaked up on a number of newbies acting like big shots and gave them a fright.

He heads for the Strike Commander’s office. The halls are the same, and he almost expects to see Jack in his ridiculous armchair when the doors slide open. Of course it’s Reinhardt, but much the room feels different despite the minor changes. 

Where Jack’s coin display had hung on the wall is instead a case dedicated to the Crusaders. In the corner of the room his hammer sat to be admired. The desk and chair were replaced to fit Reinhardt’s stature, and pushed further away from the windows, making the room seem smaller yet more grandiose in appearance.

Reinhardt stands up on his entrance. He rounds the desk and hugs Gabe with the same force he had when he arrived back a week ago. The new Strike Commander steps back, but keeps his left hand on his shoulder.

“You are looking well!”

Gabriel smiles and shrugs. “Not as well as you. The coat suits you.”

Reinhardt’s grin tampers, less zealous but still warm. He’s not lying, Reinhardt looks as untamed as always, but the coat gives him an aura of power, not so brutish as respectable. 

“It’s different from the field but I am glad to protect my friends in any form.”

They sit on their respective sides of the desk. He pulls up a folder on the giant holographic screen. The first week must have been dedicated to ensuring his proficiency in their tech, when in the past he would have fumbled with anything missing a physical screen.

“We need eyes on Japan, there’s new activity with the Shimada clan. Their head has recently passed under mysterious circumstance.”

Gabe knows. He’s had surveillance on the clan since Japan’s UN ambassador admitted to trouble caused by them, powerful mob family that made up for forty percent of Japan’s wealth. A few weeks ago, and during his vacation, his team managed an invoice from a banker with rumored Talon connections. It was considered circumstantial evidence at best, but with Sojiro Shimada’s timely death, he had already planned to visit Japan without Overwatch's recommendation.

“I will personally check it out.” 

“Not sending out a scouting team? Perhaps it’s too early for you to put yourself back on the field.”

The idea irks him, and he says so.

“This is Blackwatch business, meaning I will decide who goes in and you trust that I know what I’m doing.” 

Gabe becomes agitated, visibly so. He feels the crease between his eyes getting tighter but before he can escalate the conversation, Reinhardt holds up both his hands.

“I mean this as a friend. You should give yourself time before assuming you are fine.”

“I have been gone for a month-”

“And during that month, how often have you checked in? How often have you requested invoices from your replacement?”

He snorts instead of answering. If the Strike Commander is keeping as close tabs as he acts, he is well aware Gabriel has kept close contact with his agents every single day on his rest period.

“I assume you already know there was a minor incident hinting at Talon activity.” Reinhardt's large hands are clasped in front of him and he leans forward with a frown. The holoscreen is down and Gabriel is in full force of this disappointed look.

“You act as if my diligence is a fault.”

“Talon’s involvement with the Shimada clan is speculation at best. It is not a focus in this mission, not even clear enough to be a threat. I ask you, what did you plan to do with this information?”

Gabriel considers his options. There would be kickback from Reinhardt but ultimately, Gabriel would have the last say on how this mission would proceed.

“Scouting won't give my men trouble. Given the clan has a succession plan, there will be little room for any new upsets. I trust my team to gather intel while I focus elsewhere. It would be a waste not to investigate these rumors.”

“You have already planned to underestimate the Shimada clan. The lack of transparency of your organization endangers us all.”

Reinhardt is reaching a level of condescending that Gabriel openly sneers at.

“The prioritization of Talon was before Jack’s assassination.” 

“I cannot blindly trust you.” _I am not Jack._ Gabe should have realized a new commander would bring more difficulties on his job. “We have counselors available.”

“My psych assessment was fine.”

“They are diligent but you have too much experience evading questions. We can defeat Talon without sacrificing ourselves.”

“Jack already has. Talon is a threat, not because it has successfully killed Overwatch’s highest ranking member, but because it is an international terrorist group. As long as Talon exists, we must answer for the civilians who trust us to keep them safe. And if I have any opportunity, any advantage to stop them, then I will take it.”

“I would never ask you to stop. The pursuit of justice is noble, but it is too easy to misjudge recklessness as passion. Please. You do not want to see a man of my size beg. We’ve already given enough to this job.” 

It is not an official request which Gabriel can respect to the very least. He considers it. 

What would Jack do? And the certain, almost cruel answer is obvious. Jack Morrison had been stubborn in ways that kept Gabe honest. They were never each other's opposites, instead their similarities gave them competition, a challenge to both beat and to protect. 

Jack would want him to charge forward, always quick to approve action over retreat. If there was a gamble on their lives, his husband would be the first to roll the dice.

And when Gabe had once applauded his bravery, matched it with his own, he--

He can't. He openly stares at Reinhardt, one eye glass and skin too pale for a man who spent his life outdoors. He doesn't pity him, just as Wilhelm doesn't pity him. So he nods his head.

“I will give my full attention to the Shimada clan, and if it seems stabilized, only then will we look into the Talon rumors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do u ever have fun writing all the dialogue and just sigh when u realize u gotta go back and actually type out the other stuff. 
> 
> Funfacts:  
> \- “Day by day and night by night we were together,—All else has long been forgotten by me” is the actual line by Whitman, but since it’s a common mistake nowadays to shorten it to “we were together, I forget the rest”, it would almost be completely accepted except by true nerds like our dear Gabe by the 2050s.  
> \- gabe LOVES jack’s ridiculous voice. He basks in it, he adores it, he’s turned on by it, and he is absolutely right. Where were u the first time u watched the dorado short?  
> -reinhardt wanted to redecorate the entire office, remove blue entirely and replace it with red, so the color scheme would be red, gold, and black, and also put a bunch of lions everywhere. but its a no go because no one else likes to have fun  
> -soo basically ana doesn't fake her death because she feels obligated to gabe, but she would have disappeared and gone rogue if he was like, "i hate u ana, be better" because she believes cutting her ties with her family and friends would make her stronger because it was this connection with amelie that led to her defeat


End file.
